Stay
by DixonVixen93
Summary: AU Tag to "This Sorrowful Life": Michonne doesn't get out of the car when Merle frees her from her restraints, and it just might save his life in more ways than one. Merle/Michonne.


**I'm on a Merle/Michonne kick. Don't blame me! I've been having Walking Dead withdrawals. **

**As always, I do not own anything. This one is a tag to "This Sorrowful Life". **

_**Stay**_

_Why_?

It was a simple question. Much simpler than what she had been asking Merle on the ride to Woodbury. But, in the act of asking that simple question, she had finally cracked into that hard exterior. Michonne was right about everything. He _did_ have conscience after all. Which was why he needed to let her go. Merle slammed on his brakes, and the young woman just stared at him blankly, searching for any hints of what he was thinking. Michonne knew how to crawl under his skin, no matter how much he disliked it.

Wordlessly, he held the dark-skinned survivors eyes with his. Her heart was thudding loudly in her eardrums. Was he really going to let her go? She tensed slightly, but did her best to not let it show, as he leaned forward to cut her restraints off. He was so close to her, it was suffocating. Her eyes never left his. Even as he leaned closer to unlock her door and shove it open, she never looked away from him.

Merle almost didn't want to let her go. Halfway into their trip, he had come up with the plan that was a win-win. He would drop Michonne off, but he would help her fight back. Today was the day that he was going to kill the Governor, Officer Friendly be damned.

He nodded towards her and she made to get out of the car. Something was keeping her from going, though. If he was letting her go, then why didn't they ride back to the prison together?

"You're not going back to the prison?" Michonne finally asked, breaking the tense silence.

"Not yet, darlin'," Merle told her, a ghost of a smile tracing his lips. "Got something to get done."

The dark-skinned survivor sighed, closing the car door, not even bothering to get out. "Well, I don't intend for you to go alone. I came all of this way, only for you to let me go?"

"Ya wanted to go back to the prison, didn't ya?" Merle question, the hint of amusement was dancing in his blue eyes.

"I wanted _us_ to go back to the prison," Michonne corrected him, this time turning to face him. "I'll stay here with you."

The redneck let out a hearty chuckle. "Damn girl. Ya really ain't gonna let this go, are ya?" When the young woman just shook her head, he went to drive off again. Michonne continued to stare blankly at him, which distracted him from moving the car any further. "What're you lookin' at me like t'at for?"

"You're a good man, Merle. Whatever you have done in your past, you're trying to redeem yourself for—"

"Girly, now's not the time to go all sappy on me," Merle just looked at her, and then the realization dawned on him. He _wanted_ her. Here. Now. And dammit, it seemed like she felt the same way.

Before either of them knew it, their lips had melded. The redneck pulled Michonne closer and kept his stronger arm around her as he continued to kiss her.

"If you're serious about this, I'll take you for a real nice ride," he murmured into her slightly parted lips. "What do ya say, huh?" Merle grinned slightly as he went on, "hell, I'll fuck ya so hard it'll leave yer head spinnin'."

"I suppose I can take you up on that offer," the katana-wielding survivor purred, "been a long while since I've done this." She reached up to caress the stubble on his face.

"Ah, well," Merle acquiesced, practically yanking her over to his lap, "I'll be _real_ gentle with ya, then, Nubian Princess. Don't you worry none."

"Mmm. Somehow," Michonne straddled the redneck's lap as his good arm traveled up and down her curvy frame, "I doubt you know _how_ to be gentle."

He grinned down at her and proceeded to trail kisses down her jaw. "Sugar, we kill the damn Governor, and I will fuck you in any way, shape, or form that you want me to. How does that sound?"

She didn't respond with any words, really. Although, from the intensity that she was putting into their kiss, Merle seriously doubted that she had any problem with that.

o—o—o

Both Merle and Michonne came back merely unscathed, hours later from when they took off. If it hadn't been for Michonne coming along, though, Merle probably wouldn't have made it. The swarm of walkers might have distracted the Woodbury Army, but it hadn't distracted the Governor. Michonne had taken one last shot at operating a firearm and, sure enough, it had saved Merle Dixon's life.

They were now back alive and well, but there was one more thing that needed to be dealt with. Michonne came into Merle's cellblock, where he was busy fixing his bayonet arm. When he looked up to see her coming towards him, he stopped what he was doing and just grinned.

"Well, hey there sweet thang," Merle teased, holding his good arm out towards her. "I reckon we still got a thing or two to discuss, 'eh?"

"Discuss?" Michonne asked, her eyebrow quirked up. She came over to him and took his stump in her hand. "Was there a misunderstanding here, Merle? I'm attracted to you," she put his bayonet prosthetic up on the table behind him before straddling his lap again. "You're obviously attracted to me. It's a win-win, right?"

"Damn, woman. You're the only one in this world who I let talk to me like this," Merle chuckled, running his fingers through her dreadlocks.

"Like what?" the younger woman smirked, obviously proud over the power she has on the brash redneck.

"Like a sarcastic, you could kick my ass at any moment, baddass little woman," he explained, his blue eyes twinkling with humor. "That's why I couldn't kill ya when I was supposed to. You were too damn fascinating."

Michonne sighed, getting ready to pull away from him. She really didn't like talking about the past, no matter how long ago it was. Merle could tell that he screwed up from the second he felt her jerk away.

"Hey now, what did I say?" the redneck asked, cupping the side of her face.

"I think this is a bad idea," she began, keeping her eyes from meeting with his. "We have _too_ much history together. I don't like talking about my past, Merle. Even if it's one day ago, I just push it all aside and move on to what's in front of me now. Keep my thought to myself until necessary."

"Okay, okay, I'm sorry," Merle told her, his tone almost panicked. He could have a good thing going here. The last thing that he needed was for his big mouth to screw things up. "Just, don't leave—"

Michonne stared back at the man, surprised by the worry in his voice. She waited for him to continue, yearning to touch him again.

"Just stay," Merle asked. "Please," he settled his hand to rest on the small of her back. He wasn't gonna say much else. Merle Dixon wasn't a beggar, not for anyone. If someone couldn't deal with who he was, well fuck 'em! But Michonne, on the other hand, she was something else entirely.

She caught him off guard by tipping his chin up, and then proceeded to kiss him softly. "I'm not going anywhere," she told him.

**Another late night. I may or may not be done with fics for the night. Stay tuned, folks! Reviews are loved. **


End file.
